At Night We Dream_Meet Me There_A Dangerous Line Of Trade_Groundhog Minute
Catalog Guide:
At Night We Dream
The steps ran upwards, each one just wide enough to make you feel as though they were designed for a larger person to climb. At the top was a cavernous seeming porch with each front corner supported by a smooth sided column which appeared to rise from the stone floor and disappear into the stone arch of the roof. It was a thoroughly intimidating approach and I stood at the foot of the stairs, resisting the urge to ascend. I was urged to this action by a soft, effeminate voice which beckoned, “Come with me,” in a manner which offered little patience with delay. Then it was over. The ceiling...
Meet Me There
I knew that I had to accept this unexpected invitation for dinner. I felt it like butterflies in my stomach and here I was now, the time had gone by so quickly since the invitation, to meet this special person whom I hardly knew and had never met before. I could only imagine what he might look like, but the real surprise was awaiting me, to see his face. The only thing I knew about him was his gentle, persuasive, and still small voice. He called me and said that he had something important to tell me and that he didn't have time to give me all the details but that I might trust him and know tha...
A Dangerous Line Of Trade
The moment McKenzie landed in this small town, on the outskirts of Scotland, he knew he was going to have a good time here. Stonehaven was a harbor located to the east of Scotland, distinguished for being a lovely spot to stay. And now he understood why. This little borough had it all: the lush greenery, the lovely folk, the tranquil tourist spots, and above all, the serenity it held. That was what drew him the most.But, he was not here to stay; he had only one job to do here, and it had to www.onedoor.ccbe a quick goodbye. David, for one moment, wished he was just like everyone else: a happy family, a tedi...
Groundhog Minute
My eyes shoot open. 2:19 A.M. stares back at me in glowing green text.I shift positions, intentionally obscuring my wristwatch. Three hours until the Barcelona presentation. I shouldn’t be awake. It was already a late night of preparation. Any less sleep and I won’t be on my game tomorrow. The entire account is at stake.I squeeze my eyes shut. I try to will myself out of consciousness. No luck. I feel the familiar tinge of dread spreading through my limbs. “The drive for perfection,” as my fellow investment bankers would say. The beginnings of a panic attack, more likely. What I wouldn’t give ...